View From The Outside
by zorro x
Summary: Seamus watches Ron worry about Harry, who has gone missing again... The trio from an outsiders viewpoint.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything having anything to do with him, unfortunately. That privilege is granted only to those worthy of it... *sighs.*   
  
  
**View From the Outside**  
  
  
  
Ron's pacing. I'm used to it, by now, after years of sharing the same dormitory with him. We were never particularly close friends, but we talked occasionally, and exchanged owls over the summer. But he was always Harry's friend first. I don't mind, not really. After all, I get to hang out with Dean, and Justin Finch-Fletchy and Ernie McMillian, and occasionally Terry Boot and his friends. We laugh about normal things, date normal girls. Our biggest worries involve quidditch and O.W.L.'s   
  
Ron, on the other hand, gets to pace. His face is tense, worried, and he's muttering quietly to himself. Too quietly to overhear or understand, but I can pretty much guess what he's saying. Most of it is unfit for polite company. His red hair is unbrushed and his face pale beneath his freckles, blue eyes drawn in fear. He's wearing his robes, still, on the off-chance that he'll be called out of the room. That there will be some news.   
  
The reason for all this worry is that Harry's gone missing. Again. Nobody's entirely sure why, or how, or even exactly when- he went missing sometime between potions and divination. And I know without thinking about it that Ron blames himself, because he normally walks with Harry to Divination, but Snape was feeling particularly vindictive and held him back today, and Ron went on without him. Now Harry's gone, though, and I have no doubts that Ron blames himself.   
  
Neville is sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Ron. His face is pale and tense, large body limp with helplessness. Neville's an okay bloke, but he's never been a close friend. He's hung out with me and Dean, because the only other option had been Ron and Harry, and nobody really hangs out with Ron and Harry without feeling like they're sitting in a completely different world. Neville's pale eyes watch Ron as he moves back and forth, back and forth, again and again in a damning routine.   
  
Dean whispers, as he settles down beside me on the bed. We were supposed to be doing our Transfiguration homework, but it seems almost blasphemous to do anything so ordinary as homework, with Ron like this. I'm not stupid- I understand that Harry might die, as Cedric had, and Terry's parents. But it all seems to far above me. Death is foreign, a strange concept despite the fact that we are at war. And my room mate is a hero in that war, who had gone missing, and might be dead.   
  
I tell Dean, both of us carefully to keep our voices to low for Ron to hear. We had been in this situation before, we knew how dangerous it was to stir the redhead, who would be more than happy to snap off the nearest persons head in an attempt to vent his rage and fear. Eventually, Hermione would show up, and they would disappear together- going god knows where, although I have a few ideas. Until then, though, it was safest to float below the radar.   
  
Want to go to the library? He knows my answer before I even voice it- as much fun as Ron is to be around when he's like this, neither of us are about to desert him. I shake my head anyway, and he nods agreement. All right, then. He settles down across from me, socked feet resting in my lap, and pulls out a sketch pad. Dean is an artist- unlike me, who can't draw a stick-figure and make it recognizable as human. I've been his model a couple of times, but today he has a new goal in mind. Ron doesn't even notice, and Dean's long black hands sweep graceful lines across the paper. Artists hands, I think to myself.   
  
I let my mind drift, thinking back to my last date with Lavender. I'd managed to get her shirt off before she had stopped me from going any further- randy teenage boy I may be, but I'm not about to go any farther than she wants to. We've been going out for the past two months- the entire schools noticed. Dean, who broke up with Ginny last week, is trying to get a date with Parvati so we can double. Everyone knows this- well, almost everyone. Harry was a bit surprised when he found out a few days ago, I think.   
  
He lives completely in another world, at times. It's like he's there, but not completely- his mind is always either looking to the past horrors he's seen, or focused on the next battle, the next enemy. I know a few people who are green with envy, but I wouldn't wish his life on anyone. He had no chance to be a kid, or even a teenager- his life was ripped from him by a monster of a man. Harry went from being a scrawny, cute, eleven-year old who knew nothing abut magic, to a dangerous and haunted young man with eyes older than Dumbledore's.   
  
He's bloody dangerous, too. I don't think I even realized it until he fell asleep in a chair in the common room the other day. I reached out to wake him after a moment, and found myself looking at the business end of a wand, curse visible on his lips. He recovered quickly, and paled in shame and fear, before hurrying off. He apologized, of course- he always does. For everything, even things I wouldn't think twice for. I wonder, sometimes, what drove that into him- Dean has a theory of an abusive childhood, but I can't quite fit my mind around it. Although he has never gone home for the holidays, or gotten a letter from home.   
  
Ron's still pacing, and Neville's still staring. Dean's sketching, his movements short and sharp, eyes flicking up to Ron occasionally. He's still oblivious, lost in his own world. They're closer than brothers, Ron and Harry, and wound so tight as friends it would be impossible to pry them apart. It's impossible to hold a conversation with the two of them, because they have a slew of inside jokes and shared memories, of harrowing experiences and losses that made them grow up far too quickly.   
  
When the end comes, if it does end up You-Know-Who vs. Harry Potter, I have no doubt that Ron will be standing by his side. Forever, best friends and brothers. Hermione is a close third to their pair, the girlfriend and sister, the mother, the teacher. She and Ron exchange glances across the room like love-sick puppies, so obvious it's amazing. They think that nobody knows, nobody notices- and for them, nobody does. For as long as Harry Potter remains oblivious, they'll consider themselves a secret, because their universe revolves around him.   
  
Where is he? Ron suddenly demands, whirling to glare at me. I pause, uncertain as to whether or not I'm actually expected to respond. Where the fuck is he? There's a look of hurt so raw it hurts me, and I'm furious at the inner voice that hopes Dean got it down on paper.   
  
I don't know, I say as soothingly as I can. Neville, across the room, winces, and Dean flinches a bit in sympathy, though his hand remains steady.   
Why does everything happen to him? Again he's asking question's I can't answer. But he doesn't seem to expect me too, instead heaving himself onto Harry's empty bed, and burying his face in his large hands. It's not fair. Doesn't he deserve a break?! He's just a bloody kid!!! Well, that was my thought exactly.   
  
He'll be fine, Neville says suddenly, with a conviction that surprises me. We all turn and stare at him, except Dean, whose still drawing. He blushes a bit under our fierce scrutiny, but holds firm. He's Harry- he's always okay. He's a brilliant dueler, you know. I hadn't, but I could have guessed.   
  
But what if he's not? Ron asks quietly, his voice raw and full of pain and hope. What if this is the fight he doesn't come back from? He's going to continue to be alive until the moment he dies, you know. I can't quite figure out what relevance this has, but Neville's nodding agreement.   
  
That doesn't make him any more likely to die, Ron. After all, he's been through everything. Not reassuring, in my mind, but Ron seems to like it. Maybe there's more to Neville than any of us give him credit for.   
  
Been through hell and back again, Ron murmurs, lost in some memory. I just- I'm so scared. And that scared me, because no matter what else happens, Ron Weasley never admits to fear. Dean notices too, because he looks up sharply. Even Neville was lost for words, uncertain how to deal with the terrified boy that none of knew well enough to comfort.   
  
The voice in the doorway is soft, and we turn and see Hermione standing there, looking her normal untidy self. The bags under her eyes are easily visible, as was the increased untidiness of her large hair. Her eyes are bloodshot and face pale, a few stray zits having popped up over night. But she looks like an angel to me, crossing the room in a few quick strides to embrace the red haired boy. Come on.   
  
Did they find him? Ron asks, voice a bit steadier. The two rise to their feet, body's entwined. Hermione says nothing, and Ron's voice rises slightly in panic. Did they find him? Hermione, is he okay? Is he-   
  
He's here, She cuts him off sharply. In the hospital wing. But, Ron- She hesitates, uncertainty plaguing her every move. They don't know how he is- mentally. Voldemort had him for awhile. Neville, at the proclamation, pales to a frightening degree, and I'm surprised to see tears glimmer in his eyes. Ron and Hermione don't notice, and the door swings shut behind them.   
  
I got it, Dean says, after a moment. Here. Look. I take the sheet from him and see a simple sketch, done in plain charcoal, of Ron. He's pacing, obviously, the fear and dread plain across his face. But what strikes me most is the way it's clear, in every fiber of his body, that he loves whoever he was worried about. It's written in his eyes, his face, the lines of his forehead and his mussed robes.   
  
And that's really the only way to describe it. Wow. Two brothers, two friends, one ruined hero. And I know that the three remaining boys will complete the vigil alone, waiting for news of our friend, of our hero. Waiting for news of the lonely boy who shares our dorm. 


End file.
